an admirer of mine. He knows more about my
best cases than I do myself. The _Record_ wired last night to say I was
coming, and when I got out of the train at seven o'clock this morning,
there he was waiting for me with a motor-car the size of a haystack. He
is beside himself with joy at having me here. It is fame." He drank a
cup of tea and continued: "Almost his first words were to ask me if I
would like to see the body of the murdered man--if so, he thought he
could manage it for me. He is as keen as a razor. The body lies in Dr.
Stock's surgery, you know, down in the village, exactly as it was when
found. It's to be post-mortem'd this morning, by the way, so I was only
just in time. Well, he ran me down here to the doctor's, giving me full
particulars about the case all the way. I was pretty well _au fait_ by
the time we arrived. I suppose the manager of a place like this has some
sort of a pull with the doctor. Anyhow, he made no difficulties, nor did
the constable on duty, though he was careful to insist on my not giving
him away in the paper."

"I saw the body before it was removed," remarked Mr. Cupples. "I should
not have said there was anything remarkable about it, except that the
shot in the eye had scarcely disfigured the face at all, and caused
scarcely any effusion of blood, apparently. The wrists were scratched
and bruised. I expect that, with your trained faculties, you were able
to remark other details of a suggestive nature."

"Other details, certainly; but I don't know that they suggest anything.
They are merely odd. Take the wrists, for instance. How is it you could
see bruises and scratches on them? I dare say you saw something of
Manderson down here before the murder?"

"Certainly," Mr. Cupples said.

"Well, did you ever see his wrists?"

Mr. Cupples reflected. "No. Now you raise the point, I am reminded that
when I interviewed Manderson here he was wearing stiff cuffs, coming
well down over his hands."

"He always did," said Trent. "My friend the manager says so. I pointed
out to him the fact you didn't observe, that there were no cuffs
visible, and that they had indeed been dragged up inside the
coat-sleeves, as yours would be if you hurried into a coat without
pulling your cuffs down. That was why you saw his wrists."

"Well, I call that suggestive," observed Mr. Cupples mildly. "You might
infer, perhaps, that when he got up he hurried over his dressing."

"Yes, but did he? The manager s